


while we sing hymns in a godless world

by royallieu



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Based off Season 6, Dark!Jon, F/M, everyone's in danger, possessive!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 10:35:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11735292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royallieu/pseuds/royallieu
Summary: Now that the threat from the south grows stronger, Jon’s advisers convince him to forge an alliance through marriage. It goes as well as Ser Davos expects—that is to say, terribly.





	while we sing hymns in a godless world

“Your Grace,” Lord Hornwood beseeches, his weather-beaten face etched with worry, “this discussion _must_  be had now — we can delay no further. The longer you put this off, the more precarious your hold over the North shall be.”

Jon glares at those in the council chamber, and Ser Davos sighs quietly as he brings his goblet to his chapped lips. Of course the Northern lords would bring this up today — it is one of those rare occasions where Lady Stark is not present, having shut herself in her bedchamber due to a minor illness. No matter, though, he thinks; there will be no doubt that Jon will relay everything that has been said as soon as the council adjourns for the day.

While Ser Davos does not particularly hold Lord Hornwood in high esteem, he carries a valid point; there needs to be further discussions on the possibility of a wife for Jon. Up until this morning the King’s marital status was only of moderate concern, though it became less pressing when his lineage was unsheathed — not only a Stark by blood, but a Targaryen as well. Jon’s bastardy, which at one point had been some cause for concern, now seems completely cast aside in the face of this new reality, one where Jon has the capacity to be not just a sovereign of the North, but perhaps the south as well. His royal aunt has already proclaimed him as her heir, and contact with her from the city-state of Meereen is constant. There is talk that the Dragon Queen is ready to cross the Narrow Sea very soon; unfortunately for the North, perhaps she does not come soon enough. 

“Your Grace,” he begins, turning in his seat to look at Jon. “Cersei Lannister has claimed the Iron Throne and now styles herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“She has declared war on the North,” Lord Hornwood interjects. “There is talk from King’s Landing that she now plans to unleash an army of twenty thousand men upon us, and will continue to send as many bodies as need be to burn the North to the ground.”

Ser Davos watches as Jon processes the information that has been divulged. His face is hard, his gaze even stonier. He’s always wondered whether Jon has the ability to be frightened since being brought to life. If death can be overcome, what need is there for such an emotion?

“Your Grace, we must do all that we can to protect ourselves from this threat, but the truth is that we don’t have the forces to withstand such an onslaught when it comes,” Lord Manderly continues, and Ser Davos recognizes the tone he is using; it’s a common one used by experienced politicians, that which is meant to assure and persuade. “We need the support from a good family in order to protect ourselves. We need a larger force to protect your title. At this point, the only way we can secure such numbers is with an alliance through marriage.”

It wasn't the right angle to use, Ser Davos reflects, but around him many heads nod in agreement. The only way he knew this was because he had tried it too, once. In truth, the benefits of an arranged marriage should have been common sense to someone like Jon, who was raised in a noble household. The moment he had been declared the King in the North, Jon should have known that the decision to marry whomever he wanted was no longer exclusively his.

To the dismay of his subjects, Jon didn’t give a fuck.

“My lords, I have told you before and I will tell it to you again: I’ll not take any woman as my wife but Lady Stark.” Jon spoke the words slowly, but they were as sharp as Valyrian steel. “Cersei Lannister tries to frighten us with an army that’s likely full of inexperienced Southron men. If she actually makes it this far north, she best remember that her enemies know the landscape like no other, and it is an advantage we will always wield.” Jon scans the faces in the room, his gaze unrelenting. “The North will find the means to defend itself, whether I marry or not.”

“Your Grace, we beg you to reconsider— ”

“There will be no more talk of marriage,” Jon declares, his tone final, a dangerous hum that’s on the cusp of becoming a roar. “I absolutely forbid it.”

Most of the men in the room are smart enough to heed the warning in their King’s tone, but some are not so easily cowed.

“Your Grace!” Lord Glover booms from across the table, slamming his palm against the table in a fit of passion. “Where is your responsibility to the North? The Old Gods tell me, but where is your sense of duty that you are so infamous for? We believe in your leadership and your courage — yet why does it escape you now? When will you give sense to reason and see that a political match is necessary? When will you stop being so blind to the fact that Lady Stark—”

“That’s enough!” Ser Davos exclaims, rising from his own seat, but he’s too late; in a flash Jon is on his feet, his body bent over the table as he grips the neck of Lord Glover’s doublet and jerks the old man towards him, his face dangerously still. In that moment Ser Davos thinks that Jon is the true face of a predator just at the cusp of striking, a wolf with his hind legs raised, ready to attack.

“You say one word against Her, and I’ll fucking tear you to pieces,” Jon bites out, his voice low and menacing.

A threat like that uttered from anyone else would have been laughable, childish. But Lord Glover, like his peers around him, know about Jon’s resurrection. A man who could come back to life was not someone to be taken lightly. There are many who believe that Jon is a god of some sort, despite his own affirmations against it. But there are other rumors to contend with as well; some whisper about this new darkness that resides in him, while others spin things a little differently. _More wolf than human_ , they might say beneath their breath. It is this description that Ser Davos agrees with most. There is certainly something primal about Jon now, the fact of which can be observed in the way he moves, or the way his gaze lingers longer than was appropriate.

“My lords, we will end this meeting and reconvene another time,” Ser Davos announces before he looks at Jon. “If Your Grace pleases.”

For a moment he fears that Jon will act irrationally towards Lord Glover, whom he still holds by the neck of his doublet. He breathes a sigh of relief when the King shoves him back before glaring at the other lords around him.

“Get out,” he growls, hands tightly balled into fists. “We’re done here.”

There is the low screech of chairs being pushed back as the room empties. Some of them eye their King with a mixture of fear and curiosity just as they exit, though he is sure that Jon is used to such looks. Others send Ser Davos looks of displeasure as well, this man from the south whose presence is as questionable as his title.

Jon’s breathing is heavy and his eyes are ablaze with fury as he tries to control himself. Ser Davos thinks it wise that he has chosen to pull his hair away from his face now; the untamed curls he sported while he had been a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch would have only made him look more wild, more animal than man. Jon already seems like he treads close from losing the last of his humanity.

“They think I care about being King,” Jon growls. “That I’m concerned about their lot.” His eyes are dark and full of rage, hands clenched tightly into fists.

“Why did you accept the title, then?” Though he asks, Ser Davos is sure he already knows the answer even before Jon provides it.

“Because Sansa wanted me to.”

Ser Davos sighs. It is always because of Lady Stark, she who is now the center of Jon’s universe. Everything he does is for her, whether it be risking his life to take back Winterfell in her name or accepting the title of King in the North. Quite frankly, Jon’s obsession for his cousin is unlike anything that Ser Davos has ever witnessed.

Lady Stark’s influence is, of course, most apparent during the King’s council meetings. When present, it is she who sits beside Jon, which is most advantageous for whispering into the King’s ear. It is Lady Stark whom Jon listens to most intently; she whom Jon acquiesces to. When she speaks, he looks at her with such naked hunger that his advisers know they will never have any sway over him, not as long as she is present.

But while Lady Stark is vocal about many topics, Ser Davos knows that he is not the only one who notices how quiet she becomes whenever any discussion arises surrounding the possibility of Jon marrying.

“Jon,” he tries, now that they are alone. “Say what you will in front of the others, but Lord Manderly speaks the truth. If the Lannisters are set to march against us from King’s Landing, we need to arm ourselves, but we cannot do it alone.”

“You forget that I have my aunt’s forces behind me,” he counters.

“Aye, so you do. But what if Cersei Lannister’s army marches out tomorrow? How soon will our letter arrive at Meeren for the Queen and her Hand to read, and how soon will her army arrive? Far too late, that’s when.”

His jaw hardened. “You heard what Lord Hornwood said. Her army is nothing but hearsay at the moment.”

Ser Davos nodded. “As is your royal aunt’s. Just because we had one of her subjects here at Winterfell who claims to have seen her armies, how are we to know it’s simply that — claims?”

Jon says nothing in response, and he presses on, a little hopeful.

“I know you want to protect Lady Stark and her right to Winterfell. Did it ever occur to you that marrying might be the answer to that?”

He watches as Jon takes in what he has said, hoping that maybe, _maybe_ , he might be swayed at last. But then Jon turns his gaze on him again, and the hardness within it tells Ser Davos all he needs to know.

“Sansa is everything,” Jon declares. The way he spoke those words, one would have thought that Sansa was the air he breathed. “If she won’t have me, then I will take no one else as my wife.”

To think he had once thought that Stannis Baratheon was the most stubborn King he had ever served.

* * *

One has to be deaf, blind and dumb if Jon’s devotion to the Lady of Winterfell is not apparent. He worships her the way the High Septon worships the New Gods, follows her as loyally as his own direwolf follows his master — though Ser Davos has taken note of the way the creature clings to Lady Stark just as much these days. The King and his Lady spend hours in her chambers, though for propriety’s sake the door always remains open, so as to hinder the servants from any inappropriate talk. It seems to work, for the most part.

Ser Davos does not dislike Lady Stark. Despite her young age, she has proven to be an able custodian of Winterfell and a highly adept politician, for she knows how to play wisely with the cards she has been dealt with. What frustrates him to no end, though, is the fact that he does not understand the relationship she has with the King. While Jon is absolutely under her spell, there is no determining what she herself has offered to make her hand in marriage such a prize. Surely it has nothing to do with politics; Jon’s claim to Winterfell is just as strong as Sansa’s. With his Targaryen lineage and the support of his aunt, not to mention his title as King in the North, it might just be stronger. What is it then, that makes Jon want to possess her so? Does his love for her run that deep?

Ser Davos tightens his cloak around him as he continues along the path that cuts through the godswood. It is a strange place to him, as he has never set foot in one, not until he came to Winterfell. But while he still finds the trees and the carved faces on one of them somewhat unsettling, the place is quiet and peaceful. It is perfect for collecting one’s thoughts.

He slows his steps, though Jon’s words continue to run through his mind.

_If she won’t have me, then I will take no one else as my wife._

Was it possible that Lady Stark had in fact turned down his offer of marriage? If so, why? While Ser Davos could tell that her affections towards him had never run as deep as Jon’s towards her, could it be that she found him unworthy of her hand? It was a ludicrous thought to cross his mind; after all, shouldn’t Jon be the ultimate prize, now that he was King? Could it be that she had even higher ambitions? He’s aware that she had been under the tutelage of Cersei Lannister while in King’s Landing, though of course their relations soured rapidly after Ned Stark’s arrest and subsequent execution. Still, that didn’t mean that Lady Stark could not learn to eye the same things that the mad queen wanted. For all he knew, Lady Stark may want it more.

Sometimes he thinks that he may be too old for all the games that are played amongst these great houses. It’s a wonder that his own time hasn’t come yet, to depart from this world, and it makes him question what forces are at work for this.

“I must say you take to the godswood very well, Ser Davos.”

He turns around to find Lady Stark standing a few feet away from him, her tall frame covered in furs — they are the bountiful and warmest ones, skinned from the strongest of beasts, the only way Jon would have it. She dresses more like a queen than Jon does as a king, and Ser Davos wonders if this is telling or not of her own desires.

As usual, Ghost accompanies her, a protective companion whose red eyes are constantly on the alert for any threats. Ser Davos watches the dire wolf, whose magnificent size still catches him off guard.

“How do you mean, my lady?”

She walks towards him slowly, Ghost firmly at her side. “If I hadn’t known you, I would’ve thought you knew only of the Old Gods, what with the way you appear to be meditating in this godswood. You seem as if you’ve been practicing it all your life.”

“My thoughts are not with the divine,” he explains.

She gives him a warm smile. “I must confess that I don’t use the godswood for its intended purpose either.”

“The Old Gods would be displeased to hear that, no?”

“Only if one believes in them.”

Ser Davos frowns. “And you don’t, my lady?”

A gloved hand emerges from beneath her furs to draw back a strand of hair that dances across her face. “I find it hard to believe in gods these days after what happened with Jon.”

They are both silent as they let the quiet of the godswood be. It occurs to him that this may be the first time he has been truly alone in Lady Stark’s company; they are only ever present together during council meetings and suppers held in the Great Hall. During those meals she sits at Jon’s left, the seat of honor, and the two watch over the congregation before them in comfortable silence, Jon’s hand resting on top of hers.

His previous concerns bubble up again. He knows what he will say is talking out of turn, but he’s never been a proponent for following rules.

“Was Jon as much in love with you then as he is now?”

She darts her eyes at him, her smile having disappeared. Sensing her discomfort, Ghost growls at him, a low and threatening rumble, his fur bristling in the biting wind.

“Jon isn’t the man I once knew,” she says at last, and Ser Davos has heard this from others many, many times. “He sees things around him differently now, in ways you and I cannot explain. Jon’s feelings towards me — I wouldn’t know how to describe it. They’re … they’re otherworldly, I think.”

There is certainly something to that, he muses. Ser Davos remembers how Stannis had been just as devoted to the Red Woman, though she had dangled in front of his eyes something that he had so lusted after: power. Lady Stark, however, does not dangle such a treasure before Jon. She has only herself to offer, and yet it seems as if there is nothing Jon wouldn’t do to for her.

“Lady Stark, will you let me speak openly with you, here in the godswood?”

“You mean, will I allow for you to _continue_ to speak openly with me, here in the godswood? You may, Ser Davos.”

He nods his thanks. “There is no doubt that Jon loves you. At least, that is the only way I can think of describing his feelings towards you. But his love is in direct opposition to the well-being of the North.”

“You’re speaking in too many words, Ser Davos,” she comments, and there is a knowing look in her blue eyes. “What is that you want to say?”

He cuts to the chase. “Will you marry Jon if he asks you to?”

Her face is grim and her hold on the direwolf’s skin is tight, but she does not seem surprised by his question. Someone was bound to ask her this, and he doubts that he is the first.

The wind howls around them as more strands of Lady Stark’s auburn hair come apart from her braid. He is suddenly reminded that the Northerners marry in the godswood, and that they take their vows outside so that the Old Gods can hear them. When Lady Stark speaks again, she does so as if it is meant to be heard by not just him, but by the divine forces she claims she has difficulty believing in.

“I’ve made a decision that I will never marry again, Ser Davos,” she declares, her voice low and determined. “As long as I am alive, I will never be another man’s wife. Not even Jon’s.”

_If she won’t have me, then I will take no one as my wife._

“Are you not in love with Jon as he is with you, my lady?”

“My love for him has nothing to do with my decision,” she explains.

“What _are_  your reasons then, Lady Stark?”

She surprises him by smiling, though it is meant to be a bemused one.

“Those are privy to myself, sir.”

He does not begrudge her decision to hold back on some things. But the question he asks has been dancing on he edge of his tongue for a while, and he is unable to stop it from being voiced.

“I suppose that even the prospect of being queen was not enough to reverse your decision?”

At this, Lady Stark laughs. “That’s what everyone believes, isn’t it? They think I want to be Queen in the North.” She cuts him off before he can speak again. “I have Winterfell back, sir. I’ve learned to be content with what I have.”

Ser Davos nods. “And Jon — he respects your wishes? He accepts your decision never to marry again?”

“Of course he accepts my decision,” she answers, as if anything different were possible. “What he refuses to accept is the idea of marrying another.”

There is a knowing smile on her pretty lips when he does not respond.

“You think I didn’t know just how advantageous a political marriage would be for Jon? How a good alliance would secure the North?”

“I’ve no reason to doubt your knowledge, my lady. But have you voiced any of this to Jon?”

She bristles at this. “Do all men take me for a fool? Of course I have! I’ve tried and I’ve tried. I’ve reasoned with Jon every way I can, in every way I know; no matter what I say or do, no matter how much I beg, Jon refuses to marry another. He can’t be swayed.”

“Not even by you.”

She smirks, and Ser Davos thinks this is the first time he has seen her do so, at least in his presence.

“Yes, Ser Davos. Not even by me.”

If she speaks truly, this would give some insight as to why she keeps silent about matters surrounding Jon’s marriage prospects; having already expended her energy outside of the council chambers, Lady Stark chooses to stay quiet while the King’s other advisers make their own attempts at convincing him to wed someone of greater value.

It is a strange thing, but in that moment Ser Davos thinks that he may have an affinity towards her, for there is something oddly satisfying in knowing that Jon is not entirely at the mercy of Lady Stark, even though she is the reason behind the one thing that he won’t relent to. He is more inclined to believe her now when she claims that Jon’s passion towards her is just as perplexing as it is to him and everyone else. Ser Davos thinks that she is right; perhaps Jon’s feelings are too beyond their realm to be explained.

“What is to be done, then?” He asks.

Lady Stark does not meet his gaze when she answers. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Jon will never marry another unless it is to Lady Stark, that much Ser Davos is sure. But here’s a man who has died and come back to life; with Jon at the helm, surely it will take more than an army thrown together by a mad queen to defeat the North. Ser Davos finds some comfort in such thoughts, if only because it is the best he can come up with.

 

 

 

 **AN** : This was inspired by this [kinkmeme post](http://valar-morekinks.livejournal.com/1860.html?thread=599108). It's the very first story I wrote in the Jonsa fandom, shortly after Season 6 ended, so please go easy on it! Dark!Jon will always be my favourite kind of Jon, along with a slightly ambiguous Sansa, and I would love to revisit those tropes in another story (some day?). Enjoy, and thanks for reading!


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